


Roses in the Rain

by TheBlueshiftNebula



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Caretaking, Christmas, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Protective Keith (Voltron), Romance, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlueshiftNebula/pseuds/TheBlueshiftNebula
Summary: It's simple, at first: Keith sells his flowers to Shiro's newly opened coffee shop, and gets some pretty damn good coffee to boot. As they quickly go from business partners to friends, Keith himself falling hard and fast for Shiro. But with Shiro going back to the city soon, Keith just doesn't see it working out.Until a confrontation from Shiro's past changes everything.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 94





	Roses in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wofuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wofuru/gifts).



> Merry Christmas and happy holidays, Wofuru! This is my secret Santa gift to you :) this Secret Santa event is from the Sheith discord server! I tried to combine a few things from your prompt list, and I hope it turned out ok!
> 
> I must apologize in advance to any florists or flower experts out there who read this....flowers are complicated!!
> 
> Special huge shoutout to my two perfect and beautiful betas, Yu and [Mumblingcanadian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mumblingcanadian) for their quick turnaround on this. I am so thankful for your support <333
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Keith gently nudged the glass door open with his shoulder, his arms full of flowers. The familiar chime of the bell rang above him, causing the man at the counter to look up from where he was wiping it down.

The smile Keith sent him was wide and completely beyond his control. “Hey, Shiro. Your flowers are ready.”

Shiro’s answering smile lit up his face. Even after doing this for nearly a month now, Keith felt his heart pounding harder in his chest, the heat rising to his cheeks. Hopefully Shiro would chalk it up to the temperature difference between the cold November air and his warm coffee shop.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro greeted him, smoothing the apron down his chest slightly. Keith was almost embarrassed at how the action held his attention, drawing his gaze down Shiro’s well-defined form. Even the rumpled purple apron couldn't hide how the dark sweater underneath clung to him. “What have you got for me this week?”

Hesitating for just a second too long in the doorway, Keith shook himself out of his Shiro-induced stupor. Quickly crossing the length of the store, he gently laid the fresh flowers on the counter for Shiro to inspect. “Some winter classics. White dahlias, red roses.” He pointed to the outer layer of the bouquet, where some of the green leafy filler was. “Added some pine cones as an experiment. I thought it rounded it out really well.”

Peeking up through his bangs, Keith studied Shiro’s reaction. Shiro was smiling softly, delicately cupping one of the tops of the roses with his hand. His flesh hand, Keith noted, as Shiro kept his metal hand on the counter between them.

“They’re beautiful.” Shiro turned his breathtaking smile back to Keith. “As always.”

Before Keith could react—or bring his traitorous heart under control before it beat right out of his chest—another figure slid up beside Shiro, dressed in an identical purple apron.

“Oh, these are this week’s flowers?” Matt leaned against the espresso machine, examining the bouquet. His brown hair was tied low against the nape of his neck, draping over his shoulder.

“Roses, eh?” Matt smiled crookedly at Keith, one eyebrow up. “How romantic.”

Keith felt his whole face go red. Before he had a chance to defend himself, though, Shiro gave Matt a quick shove. “Knock it off, Matt. You’re making him uncomfortable.”

Matt waived his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only teasing, dude.”

Truthfully, Matt was closer to the mark than Keith wanted to admit. More than once, Krolia mentioned how the recent sets of flowers Keith brought to Shiro’s coffee shop almost looked like the ones you’d gift to a lover.

At first, when Keith and Shiro had started this arrangement nearly a month ago, Keith brought small, simple bouquets: chrysanthemums and daisies, filled out with various greenery, thistle and sage. But as time went on, he got bolder: roses of all colours, bright sunflowers, even the occasional bird of paradise if he could get it to open. 

When the flowers started carrying deeper meanings, Keith wasn’t sure. Perhaps when Keith found himself doing a bouquet of red roses and peonies and realized he was in far too deep. 

Realistically, he knew he should dial it back to the simple bouquets. But then he would think about how a particularly colourful lily would make Shiro smile, and Keith was helpless to resist.

Shiro smirked. “Well then, as an apology, you can go fill the vases with fresh water for the new flowers.”

Matt groaned dramatically. “You slave driver.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your life is a never-ending nightmare.” Shiro rolled his eyes as Matt walked away in a huff, seemingly offended at being asked to work during his job.

“And be careful with those vases, they belong to Keith!”

“Precious cargo, I know," Matt replied over his shoulder. "I promise I’ll treat them like the valuable treasures they are.”

“Well if you break one, it’s coming out of your pay,” Shiro said as Matt carried them out back.

The vases were hardly worth all this bickering—Keith knew exactly how expensive they were, which was not much at all. But the exchange made Keith chuckle. Matt and Shiro’s dynamic was always fun to watch.

Shiro ran a hand through his white bangs, ruffling them adorably. “Do you and Krolia have to deal with this kind of insubordination?” he asked playfully.

“Nah, mom has mastered the art of being small but intimidating.” Considering how all of the workers at Marmora Flowers were twice the size of her and Keith, it was definitely a necessary skill. Even if they were all softies underneath the bulk.

Shiro chuckled, moving over to the coffee machines. “I should ask her for pointers.”

Keith bit his tongue, the reply of _there’s nothing small about you_ flashing through his mind. Instead, he turned to examine the shop, which was quiet in the morning light. It was still half an hour until Black Lion Coffee opened, and Keith was grateful for the peace; even though Shiro had only opened barely two months ago, it was already a hit with the locals. Soon enough, it would be swarming with customers. The rich coffee combined with Hunk’s incredible pastries made the shop an instant success.

Keith liked to think he had helped add to that; when Shiro had proposed this arrangement a month ago, Keith had been skeptical. But business was business, and when a successful shop opens up just a few doors down and asks for help, well, Keith and Krolia knew they’d be foolish to say no.

The arrangement was simple: every week, Shiro paid for fresh flowers to be delivered to the shop. The idea was to brighten up the shop and make it more inviting. Helping a fellow business owner didn’t hurt, either. 

Of course, developing feelings for Shiro had not been a part of that arrangement. But Keith was handling it as best he could. He figured once Shiro left for the city, he’d get over it.

Except Shiro hadn’t left. Not yet, anyway.

The sound of a coffee mug tapping against the counter drew Keith’s attention, bringing him back to the present. Shiro pushed the mug in his direction, the dark liquid inside sloshing slightly.

“Your usual,” Shiro said, grabbing another cup from the rack behind him.

“Thanks.” Keith took a tentative sip, not wanting to burn the roof of his mouth in his impatience. Dark roast with a hint of milk and plenty of sugar. Just the way he liked it. He hummed in appreciation, feeling the warmth course through him.

“Good?” Shiro asked, not looking from the second cup he was making.

“You know it is,” Keith responded playfully. He’d long ago given up on trying to pay Shiro for the perfect coffee he made every time Keith came in.

As Shiro ran the espresso machine, Matt finally emerged with the first round of vases, clean and with fresh water for the new flowers. As Matt started dispersing them around the store, Keith set down his cup, bringing the bouquet over to arrange it in the closest vase.

“I’ll run down the street to get the rest,” he called to Shiro.

“Why don’t you stay for a bit first?” Shiro answered. He leaned forward on his elbows, grinning at Keith. “Finish your coffee before it gets cold.”

Keith turned back towards him, smirking a bit. “Oh, my apologies to your coffee. I wouldn’t want to disrespect it.”

Shiro laughed, and Keith felt the sound warm him even better than the coffee did.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Keith raised his eyebrows, trying to ignore the complex feeling the words stirred in his chest. He wrapped his hands around the coffee mug to keep them from shaking. “Oh yeah?”

Taking a sip of the espresso, Shiro nodded. “The holidays are coming up. I had an idea for something you and I could do together.”

 _Together_. The word sang through Keith’s head, even as he tried his hardest to ignore it. “But aren’t you going back to the city soon?”

“Yeah, Shiro,” Matt called from where he was setting up the rest of the vases across the store. “Weren’t you supposed to be back at corporate like a month ago?”

Shiro’s cheeks went red at that, hiding the edges of the scar across his nose. “I’ve already talked to Allura about it. She said she’s fine with it.”

“Uh huh.” Matt set down the last vase, turning back and shooting Shiro a look. Shiro refused to meet his eyes, focusing his attention on the tiny espresso cup, which looked even smaller in his large hands. 

“Thank goodness for the benevolence of Allura and the Voltron Group, eh?” Matt asked sarcastically.

“Allura wouldn’t have sent me here to open this shop under her family’s name if she didn’t trust me,” Shiro said matter-of-factly, straightening up from where he was leaning to level a dark look at Matt. “I’ve got her permission to stay until the new year.”

Keith’s heart leapt; another month of Shiro here.

“Yeah, yeah, and that’s the _only_ reason you’re still here.” Matt dried his hands on his apron, shooting Keith a knowing smirk, as if he was in on the joke. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, knowing Matt) Keith had no idea what he was talking about.

The blush on Shiro’s cheeks expanded to his whole face, burying the scar entirely in the colour. “You know what? I just heard Hunk say he needed help in the kitchen.”

“Aw, come on, man—”

“Go on!” Shiro motioned sharply to the swinging door behind him, where Keith could smell Hunk’s famous pastries baking.

Matt grumbled, but complied easily. Keith knew that, under all that blustering, was a genuine affection for Shiro. And Keith knew Shiro felt the same, but there was only so much Holt sass one could take at six thirty in the morning.

With Matt gone, Shiro sighed. “Anyway. Back to business.”

Keith nodded, smiling a bit into his coffee at the whole ordeal. But something Matt had said was stuck in his mind: if Shiro wasn’t only here for the business, why was he sticking around? Originally, he said he was only to be here for a few weeks to supervise the opening of the shop. But it seemed every week after that, he had a new reason to extend his stay. Not that Keith was complaining, of course, but it made him wonder.

Had he met someone? The thought filled Keith with an irrational amount of anxiety. But why else would he be staying for so long? Especially in a tiny town like Arus. The apartment he was renting might have been nice, but could it really compare to his loft in the city? Keith had no idea.

“I thought it would be a fun idea to have our shops do a collaboration for the holidays this year,” Shiro continued, oblivious to Keith’s internal crisis. “What if we had a little event on Christmas Eve, with a flower and coffee combo?”

The idea made Keith sit up straighter, the intrigue of the idea temporarily banishing his gloomy thoughts. “Flowers…and coffee? On Christmas Eve?”

Shiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his metal hand self consciously. “I know it’s not very conventional, but I thought it would be a great way for both of our shops to capitalize on the holiday season. We could take orders in advance and hand them out on Christmas Eve, serve hot chocolate, sell pastries….you know, make a whole thing out of it.”

Keith turned the idea over in his mind for a moment. Making Christmas themed bouquets was something his shop did every year, and while sales were normally good, pairing it with Shiro’s shop would make them better than ever.

But it also felt like a huge undertaking. Would they have to advertise it somehow? Who would take the orders? How would they split the money? Where would they do it?

It must have shown on Keith’s face, because Shiro held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, it’s ok if you’re not comfortable with this. I just thought it was a neat idea. I drew up some plans last night on a whim, but you don’t have to commit today. Or at all.”

Slowly, Keith nodded. Realistically, he knew he’d be insane to turn this offer down. It was a fantastic opportunity—both professionally and personally. The chance to work directly with Shiro for a month alone was almost too enticing to resist.

“And you’ll have to talk to your mom too, I’m sure,” Shiro continued. Of course; Keith and Krolia might have been co-owners, but no major decisions happened without approval from both.

Downing the rest of his coffee, Keith set the mug aside. “So what exactly did you have in mind?”

In lieu of a response, Shiro knelt below the counter, rummaging through something Keith couldn’t see. Straightening, he put a coffee mug on the counter between them.

It wasn’t the usual, plain white mugs Keith was used to. This mug was a satiny black, with _Black Lion Coffee_ written around the top in a dark purple font with a white outline. Underneath was a simplified outline of a lion, also outlined in white, finalized with the V-shaped Voltron Group logo at the bottom.

“We had these specially made a while ago, but they only came in the other day.” Shiro spun the mug around slowly, showing it off. “What if we sold them with a bouquet of your flowers in them? Using the mug as a vase?”

Keith reached out to take the mug, wanting to see how deep it was. Shiro handed it over, and their hands brushed briefly on the handle. The brief contact made Keith’s hand buzz.

Tipping the mug towards him, Keith peered inside. “If we cut the stems a bit shorter, we could probably do it.”

“Yeah?” Shiro sounded hopeful. 

Truthfully, the mugs were barely deep enough to keep flowers in, even after cutting the stems as short as Keith dared. They probably wouldn’t last quite as long that way, but it was possible.

Keith toyed with the mug absently, thinking. “What kind of flowers were you thinking of? Are we going to have people put in full custom orders?”

Oh, geez. Keith should probably have thought that one through before mentioning it. The markup on custom orders was steep, not to mention the _work_ …

“Maybe not fully custom orders,” Shiro said, contemplating. “But what if it was just Christmas themed bouquets? Each one could be a little different, even. If that’s not too much trouble.”

That was definitely more doable. Keith barely repressed a sigh of relief. The Christmas bouquets they usually put together were fairly standard and generic, to help them sell better. But something like this would allow him to be more creative with the bouquets; each one could be different. They could be something Keith could put his name to.

Shiro’s expression was hopeful, though a little apprehensive. “So what do you think?”

It would be a lot of work on top of their holiday rush. But the mugs were admittedly pretty cool, and more business now could only help prepare them for the inevitable post-holiday lull.

“I’ll have to talk to my mom about it,” Keith said. The anxiety still swirled in his stomach, but the excitement of planning the event—and planning it with Shiro—was helping. “But for what’s it worth, I think it’s a really awesome idea, Shiro.”

The beaming smile Shiro sent him made the whole endeavor worth it.

* * *

Keith walked briskly down the street, clutching the wrapped bouquet as tight as he dared. The previous night, he and Krolia had spent time drafting up ideas for the holiday bouquets. White and red roses, carnations, holly—there were a myriad of options. The bouquet currently in Keith’s hands was his favourite so far: pure white dahlias, bright red roses, pale white lilies, sprinkled with baby’s breath and vibrant green leaves. As hard as Keith tried not to go overboard, it was difficult when the thought of Shiro’s reaction was spurring him on. Krolia had suggested adding a few decorations within the bouquet itself. This particular one was adorned with a few plastic golden balls and wrapped in a sparkly golden ribbon.

So maybe he did go a little overboard. Each of the bouquets wouldn’t be quite this elaborate—they had a profit margin to maintain, after all—but Keith couldn’t help the slight spring in his step as he made the short journey to the Black Lion. Not even the dark streets or the ungodly hour of six in the morning could dampen his mood, not when he would be working directly with Shiro over the next few weeks. It was still a huge project with a mountain of work, but seeing Shiro’s plan the day before made Keith feel much more confident about the whole thing.

Soon enough, the glass door to Shiro’s shop came into view, and Keith hurriedly pushed it open.

Only to stop dead in his tracks.

Shiro was behind the counter, but standing in front of it was a man Keith had never seen before. In a town as small as Arus, that alone was worth noting.

The man was tall and broad, practically towering over Shiro, which was a feat in itself. He was dressed well, the suit freshly pressed and tailored to his massive frame. But Keith wasn’t focused on that.

Shiro was standing ramrod straight behind the counter, so tense he looked like he might snap. His eyes were wide, mouth turned down, the picture of stress. Even from where he was standing on the other side of the store, Keith could see that his hands were curled into tight fists at his side. Despite this, Shiro held his head high, staring down the huge man in front of him.

Keith took a hesitant step forward, unsure what to do. Shiro was clearly agitated, but this wasn’t Keith’s business—maybe it would be best if Keith just stayed out of it. Maybe he should just turn around, quietly leave, and come back later.

Before he could make up his mind, the man pressed himself against the counter, getting in Shiro’s face. His hand shot out, grabbing Shiro’s right arm in a crushing grip. Before Shiro could react, the man _pulled_ Shiro’s arm toward him, causing Shiro to be practically splayed across the counter.

“Don’t you remember _who gave you this?!_ ” the man roared, holding up Shiro’s arm. The metal arm. He shook it roughly. “Don’t you remember who _made_ _you?!_ ”

Shiro cried out in pain, trying to brace himself on the counter against the man’s grip.

At that moment, any indecision Keith had vanished.

Dropping the bouquet, Keith sprinted across the length of the shop, where the man still had Shiro’s prosthetic locked in his grip. He was easily three times Keith’s size, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except that Shiro was in danger.

“Let him _go!_ ” Keith yelled. Skidding to a stop by the counter, he dug into his jacket pocket, grasping his mother’s knife. Arus wasn’t exactly dangerous, but even after reconnecting with her, Keith felt unbalanced if he didn't have the knife on him.

He’d rather not wave a weapon around if he could avoid it, but the dude was _huge_ , and Keith was ready to break a few concealed carry laws if it meant this guy would leave Shiro alone.

The man dropped Shiro’s arm and whirled, clearly startled. The first thing Keith noticed was the eyepatch covering his right eye, and the high-tech prosthetic of his left arm. He sneered down at Keith, unphased by the outburst.

“What is this?” the man asked sarcastically, looking down his nose at Keith. “Your attack dog?”

Keith bared his teeth, the anger boiling in his stomach. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

The stranger may have been enormous, but after seeing the effect he had on Shiro, Keith was willing to do just about anything to get him to leave.

The man’s expression barely flickered, clearly unimpressed with Keith’s display.

“Get out, Sendak,” came Shiro’s hoarse voice. Keith glanced over to see he’d backed away from the counter, holding his right arm tight against his body. “And don’t come back.”

There was a moment of tense silence, where none of them moved. Then the man—Sendak—scoffed, looking back at Shiro. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you…and this _dump_ you call a business. Alfor would be ashamed of what you’ve done to his family name.”

Without sparing Keith another glance, Sendak turned and headed for the door. As he left, he passed Keith’s bouquet that was still sitting by the entryway. Grasping the door handle, Sendak roughly pulled it open, the sweet, high-pitched chime of the bell contrasting starkly with the scene around them.

Looking over his shoulder, Sendak smirked, the expression cruel. Then, without breaking eye contact, he stepped on the flowers, deliberately crushing them under his expensive shoe.

“See you around, _Champion_.”

With that, he was gone.

The door banged shut, and Keith turned away, back to the only thing that mattered.

Shiro was still leaning against the far wall, his left hand pressing the prosthetic close to his chest. His face was a few shades too pale, the scar standing out in stark relief. Was he hurt? The thought made Keith’s blood boil all over again.

Letting out a harsh breath, Shiro finally met Keith’s worried gaze, giving him a small smile. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“ _You_ don’t need to be sorry,” Keith said, barely keeping the anger from leaking into this voice. The last thing Shiro needed now was more hostility. “Who even was that asshole?”

Sighing, Shiro pushed off the wall he was leaning on. “It’s a long story.” Dropping his arms, he let out a soft noise of pain.

“Are you alright?” The anger was being replaced by concern now. Keith quickly rounded the counter, not noticing how Shiro’s eyes went wide at his approach. “Let me see.”

Shiro chuckled, but it was a weak sound. “Didn't know florists could double as doctors.”

“Flowers are easier to work with than people,” Keith replied seriously.

This time, Shiro’s laugh was more genuine. “That is undeniably true.”

Keith stopped in front of Shiro, holding out his hand, silently asking permission. There was a beat before Shiro extended his arm, hissing a bit at the motion.

“Where does it hurt?” Keith asked, taking another step towards Shiro, careful not to get in his face.

“Shoulder,” came Shiro’s curt reply. He tried rolling it, but stopped halfway through with a wince. 

It was the first time Keith had really _looked_ at Shiro’s prosthetic. Keith hadn’t really seen much more past the wrist—it was winter, after all, and Shiro had been mainly wearing sweaters (beautiful, tight fitting sweaters). It seemed comparable to Sendak’s, as far as Keith could tell. Gently taking the metal wrist, Keith extended it towards him slowly. Even that motion made Shiro wince again.

“Let’s get some ice on it,” Keith said, trying not to rush things. It was hard, though, seeing Shiro in pain.

Shiro just nodded, some of the colour returning to his cheeks. “There’s a fridge out back.”

Keith let go of Shiro’s wrist, turning to make for the swinging door behind them without waiting for Shiro’s permission. If he had an issue with it, Keith assumed he’d say something.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted with a room of metal. Metal tools, metal sink, metal countertops. It was clean, despite the daily use it saw. Keith imagined that Hunk ran a tight ship back here.

Off to the side, in front of one of the massive metal workstations, was a stool. Keith nodded towards it. “Sit,” he said simply, taking his jacket off and tossing it onto the nearest metal counter.

Shiro eyed him, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Yes, sir.”

Oh, god. Keith hurried to the fridge, opening the freezer and hoping it was cold enough to evaporate the full face blush the words had caused.

Looking through it quickly, Keith didn’t see anything that resembled a proper ice pack, but there were plenty of bags of frozen dough. Snatching one, he threw the door closed, making his way back to where Shiro was sitting, still experimenting with moving his arm.

Snagging a towel from the sink nearby, Keith wrapped the frozen dough in it, coming up to stand in front of Shiro. “Where exactly does it hurt?”

Rubbing a hand up his shoulder, Shiro sighed. “It doesn’t hurt that badly.”

Keith frowned. “It clearly does. Tell me where.” 

Maybe he should have dropped it, but the image of Shiro’s haunted expression as Sendak tormented him was burned into his mind. He couldn’t leave. Not now.

Sighing again, Shiro tugged at the collar of the sweater with his left hand, pulling it mostly off in one smooth motion. Gingerly peeling it off his right arm, Shiro tossed it aside, leaving him in a plain back t-shirt. Keith could see how the prosthetic went all the way up to his elbow, where the short sleeve of the shirt didn't quite hide the jagged scarring around where it was grafted on. 

It was hard to focus on the scars, though, when Shiro's well-muscled arms were on full display. Not to mention the tight t-shirt itself. Despite the tense atmosphere, Keith couldn't help but appreciate the sight.

Shiro pushed the collar of the shirt down his shoulder, exposing the skin there. It was already a little red. “Here,” he said quietly.

Keith gently moved Shiro’s hand away. When Shiro didn’t tell him to stop, Keith placed the makeshift ice pack on the spot where Shiro’s shoulder met his neck.

He shivered a bit at the temperature, but after a moment, the tension finally started to leave his body. Reaching up with his flesh hand, Shiro lifted his other hand as if to take the frozen dough. “I can do it if—”

Keith responded by slapping Shiro’s hand away.

Laughing a bit, Shiro complied. “Alright, you win. Is that Hunk’s dough? He’d kill you if he saw you using it like that.”

“Are you kidding?” Keith laughed in response. “Hunk wouldn’t kill an ant if it was crawling on him.”

“I don’t know about that,” Shiro said in mock seriousness. “One of these days he’s going to catch Matt sneaking a cookie and the next thing I know, I’ll be finding a body in the dumpster.”

Keith just snorted at that.

They lapsed into silence after that, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Every minute or so, Keith lifted the ice pack up to give the skin under it a break. Shiro seemed to be relaxing under his touch, something that Keith was grateful for.

It might have been a minute or an hour when Shiro finally broke the silence. “Thank you, Keith. You…you saved me, back there.”

Keith waived his free hand dismissively. “He was hurting you,” he said simply. Keith looked over, finding Shiro staring at him openly. There was an expression on his face that Keith couldn’t quite read, but it made something warm bloom in his chest.

“Besides,” he continued, shifting the ice pack on Shiro’s shoulder, “I hate bullies. There were so many of them around me, growing up. First at the orphanage, then school.”

Shiro made a soft, surprised noise. “But…your mom?”

“We reconnected a few years ago,” Keith said, keeping his eyes on the ice pack so he wouldn’t have to see the pity in Shiro’s eyes. The pity he always saw when he mentioned his past. Poor broken little Keith, desperate for a family. He didn’t want Shiro, of all people, to think of him that way. “She was special forces. Away on assignment when my dad died. I got put in foster care and then just…got lost in the system.”

“That’s awful,” Shiro said quietly.

Humming in agreement, Keith’s grip tightened around the cold towel. He appreciated that Shiro didn’t try to offer empty platitudes. He’d heard enough of them in his life. “Turns out Marmora Flowers was a family-owned business. Dad…he always loved my mom’s flowers. So we opened it back up and, well, here we are.”

There was more to it than that, of course, but it's not like Shiro asked for Keith's depressing life story. Keith was already worried he'd said too much.

Finally daring to look up, he was surprised to find that Shiro wasn’t looking at him with pity, or sympathy, or sadness. Instead, he looked…almost in awe.

“That’s incredible,” he said softly. “Keith, you’re amazing.”

Keith’s eyes widened at the words, the blush from earlier returning in full force. “I’m really not.”

But Shiro just shook his head. “You’re so strong, Keith. Every day, I just get more and more impressed by you.”

Keith had to look away, his face tomato red. Clearing his throat, he tried not to let the compliments make him too giddy, even if he still felt they were unearned. “Well. It’s not that impressive." 

Keith moved the frozen dough away, examining the area on Shiro's shoulder. It still looked red, though some of that was probably from the cold. "I’ve found that a lot of kids who are bullies just grow into adults who are bullies. This Sendak guy is someone who probably would have beaten the shit out of me in school because he didn’t like my clothes or something.”

Shiro snorted. “You’re not wrong, honestly.”

Keith raised his eyebrows, but didn’t push. While he waited for Shiro to gather his thoughts, he pressed the frozen dough back to the spot on Shiro’s shoulder.

Sighing, Shiro closed his eyes. There was a beat too long of silence before he continued. “I used to work with him. Sendak. We worked together in the Galra Group, a long time ago.”

Keith's eyes went wide. Shiro had _worked_ with someone like that? “And why did he call you that? ‘Champion’?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Shiro replied flatly. He blinked his eyes open, looking at the ceiling, pointedly not looking at Keith’s face. “It was a…sick nickname they gave me. I broke a few records, made a lot of sales for them. But working there, if you succeeded, you were a prime target for people to try and tear you down. It was competitive, and toxic, and I hated every fucking minute of it.”

He ran a hand over his prosthetic, the sleek metal fitting right in with the kitchen. “Then I had my…accident. Car crash. Someone cut my brakes.”

“Fuck,” Keith breathed, clutching the towel in his hands. “Shiro, you don’t have to tell me if—”

“Yes, I do,” Shiro cut him off. “You deserve to know. After…” He looked over at Keith then, expression vulnerable. “After what you did for me. You deserve to know.”

Keith just nodded. He could tell this wasn’t something Shiro offered lightly, and he would accept it like the precious gift it was.

“I could never prove what happened. But I knew. I _knew_ Sendak had somehow arranged it. He was jealous of my success. And so, when I finally got out of the hospital, the Galra Group arranged for me to receive a top-of-the-line prosthetic in exchange for not digging into it. Because they knew, too. And I knew they would try to control me with it, have it hanging over my head as a life debt, but I was desperate. So, I agreed.”

Keith could only listen as Shiro poured his heart out to him. It was hard to hear, but Keith was incredibly grateful for it nonetheless. “But you got out.”

Finally, Shiro smiled. “Yeah. Allura poached me after taking over the Voltron Group. Her father had just died, but she was already a force to be reckoned with.” Leaning back on the stool a bit, Shiro let out a soft sigh. “I owe her a lot. More than I can ever repay.”

“She sounds…” Keith hesitated, looking for the right word. Someone who could go up against people like Sendak and not flinch. “Formidable,” he finally decided on.

Shiro just chuckled. “That’s an understatement.”

There was more. Keith could sense it, in the tense way Shiro was holding himself.

“Sometimes I think she was wrong about me,” Shiro said softly, his gaze sliding down towards the floor. “It might have been a toxic hellhole, but I _thrived_ in it. I was one of their best.”

Finally looking back at Keith, Shiro’s expression was pained. “What does that say about me?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer, Keith could tell. But the pain on his face was more than Keith could take.

“It means you’re stronger than them,” Keith said firmly. “Then you took what they gave you and built this place. You built this without them, Shiro. It means you’re _better_ than them.”

Shiro’s expression rippled at that, turning into something hopeful. “You...really think so?”

“I _know_ so,” Keith replied. And he did. Of course he did—Shiro was kind, and amazing, and after going through something so horribly traumatic, he was still so _good_. 

Shiro didn’t reply, but the smile returned to his face, and for that, Keith was grateful.

Keith removed the towel wrapped dough again, not wanting to let the area get too cold. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Shiro answered. “But I’ll probably be sore for a day or two. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure?” Keith pressed, not trusting Shiro to not overwork himself. “I can always send someone over from Marmora to help. Ulaz will be around today, he could come over.”

Shiro just shook his head. “I couldn’t ask that. I’m sure you’re all busy.”

Keith shrugged. “Ulaz wouldn't mind. He likes you. You’re the first person not to gawk at him for working in a flower shop.”

Truth be told, Keith couldn’t blame the people who did. At six foot seven and sporting that crazy mohawk, Ulaz didn’t look like he should even know the difference between a tulip and a lily. But the rough exterior hid his soft, botany-loving heart.

“I’ll be fine, Keith,” Shiro insisted. “I’ll just work Matt a little harder today. It’s not like he couldn’t use it.”

He hopped off the stool while Keith put the still mostly frozen dough back in the freezer, trying to remember exactly where he had found it.

Making their way back to the front of the store, Shiro tugged his sweater back on before picking up his apron. The morning light was beginning to stream through the large storefront windows, which drew Shiro’s attention to the crushed bouquet still lying in a heap by the door.

“ _Oh_ ,” Shiro exclaimed, tying the apron quickly while making his way to the flowers. Scooping them up as gently as he could, he whirled back to where Keith was standing by the counter, expression wretched.

“Keith…your flowers,” Shiro said sadly, cradling them close. “I’m so sorry. I can pay for them—”

“It’s not your fault, Shiro,” Keith replied quickly. Shiro brought them to the counter, opening the paper and examining the damage. Some of the roses had their tops completely crushed, and one of the two golden balls had shattered. The ribbon was warped beyond repair, and while a few of the carnations could be salvaged, it was a far cry from the beautiful winter bouquet Keith had wanted to surprise Shiro with.

At that moment, the door chime rang, and Shiro whirled, clearly still on edge. But it was just Hunk, yawning into his mittened hand.

“G’morning,” he said sleepily. “Those the flowers for the event?”

“Sort of,” Keith replied dryly. “Not exactly my finest work.”

Making his way to where the flowers were laid out, Hunk whistled. “Damn, dude, these are totally wrecked. Is this some sort of gimmick?”

“There was an accident with them this morning,” Shiro replied defensively. “Clearly it wasn’t Keith’s fault.”

Shrugging, Hunk slipped his yellow hat off. “Whatever you say, boss man. We know Keith’s work is awesome, I trust ya.” With that, he went around the counter, pushing open the door to the kitchen. “I’ll be out back if you need me.”

Sighing, Shiro dropped his shoulders, looking exhausted. “I’m so sorry about this. Please, let me pay you back.”

“It’s _fine_ , Shiro.” Keith gave him a small, teasing smile. “But if you really want, you can make me another cup of your world-famous coffee in one of those cool new mugs.”

Shiro’s answering smile was like the sun coming out after a day of rain. “I can definitely do that.”

Neither of them moved, at first. Shiro was looking at him, still smiling softly, with the new morning light shining in his two-toned hair, casting shadows across his face.

He was gorgeous, and Keith was in love.

The moment was soon broken by Hunk’s angry voice yelling from the kitchen.

“ _Who touched my fridge!!_ ”

* * *

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity.

As much as Keith was enjoying spending the time with Shiro, it was less quality time with him and more a manic flurry of preparations. The orders were already piling in, and Keith was finding it hard to keep his head above water.

Despite it all, he treasured the time he had to spend with Shiro. Especially knowing it was limited. After all, he was leaving in less than a month.

By the time December 23rd rolled around, the day before the event, Keith was practically buzzing with nervous energy. They’d decided to host it at the Black Lion, since they had the space. It didn’t hurt that they planned to have Hunk baking throughout the day, to give the place a homey, Christmas feel (and entice people to buy more pastries, Shiro had told Keith with a knowing wink). Ulaz was on standby to run back and forth between the two shops, to get anything Keith needed while he was working with Shiro.

While Keith felt like he knew Shiro pretty well, despite their somewhat short time together, he’d yet to experience being with Shiro in a professional setting, and it was only adding to his ever-growing anxiety about the whole thing. With his new knowledge of Shiro’s extensive career, he felt almost intimidated by working with him. After all, Keith was no salesman; even if he knew flowers, he still didn’t know how to handle people.

And yet, despite his trepidations, the event went off without a hitch.

Their little table was set up at the entrance of Black Lion Coffee, with customers rushing in to pick up their Christmas bouquets. The mugs were a huge hit, and there were many exclamations of delight over the beauty of Keith’s flowers. There were even a number of people interested in placing future orders—Keith had handed out more business cards in that afternoon than he ever had in his life. He mentally thanked Kolivan for reminding him to make them in the first place.

The entire time, Keith was thinking about a single bouquet he’d stashed away in the bakery (which Hunk’s express permission, of course). He’d put it together the night before, Shiro’s face in his mind as he gathered up what he needed. The idea had been in his head since the Sendak incident, and he’d finally managed to procure exactly what he needed.

Finally, the event was winding down; Shiro was out of mugs, and Keith only had a few sparse bouquets left. The idea with Hunk’s pastries worked a little too well: while Shiro had made a mint on impromptu coffee and pastry sales, his store was nearly empty.

It ended up working out, however.

“You’re closing the shop?”

Shiro nodded, folding up the display table. “Just until the new year. I wanted to give Matt and Hunk some time off. Plus,” he put the table aside, gesturing quickly at the empty shop, “I don’t have much else to sell until my suppliers are back from the holiday break.”

Oh. “Makes sense,” Keith said quietly. But if Shiro was leaving in the new year, does that mean this is the last time they’ll see each other? The thought sent Keith’s stomach sinking.

Picking up the two folding chairs, Keith nodded to the back. “I’ll just go put these away?”

“Sure, thanks.” Shiro smiled at him, completely innocently, and despite the awful feeling in his chest at the thought of the last day with Shiro, Keith couldn’t help but smile back.

Heaving the chairs up under both arms, Keith made his way to the kitchen area as quickly as he could to replace the chairs. Not that either of them had actually _sat_ at all during the insanity of the day. Keith was exhausted, but in a satisfying, bone deep way—the way that signified a good hard day’s work.

Leaning the chairs against the wall in the kitchen, Keith turned to see Hunk slipping on his winter jacket. “Heading out?”

Starting a bit, Hunk turned, a sheepish smile on his face. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s been a long day, huh? And we’re closing up soon anyway.”

Arching an eyebrow, Keith just stared. Hunk was nervously fiddling with his mittens, his smile a little _too_ wide. Then, Keith noticed: behind Hunk, on one of the freshly wiped down countertops, sat his special bouquet, taken out of its hiding place and sitting very deliberately in plain sight.

Ah.

“Anyway, can you let Shiro know? I’m giving Matt a ride home, so Shiro doesn’t have to wait up for him.”

Before Keith could answer, though, Hunk had slipped past him and was out the swinging door. He heard a hasty “Merry Christmas!” as Hunk left, and after that, the familiar chime of the bell.

Keith was left standing alone in the kitchen, embarrassed at having his very sophisticated plan—consisting of “present flowers to Shiro at some point and hope he likes them”—so easily figured out.

But at least Hunk had cleared the way for him. Heading over to where the wrapped flowers were, Keith gently picked them up, running a hand over the red and black paper.

 _Now or never_.

Taking a deep breath, Keith pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen, seeing Shiro standing by the front door with his hands on his hips.

“That was weird,” he said, mostly to himself. Shaking his head, he turned back toward Keith. “Hunk must have some important holiday plans. He should have said something before, I would have let him go earlier.”

Of course he would have. Shiro would have given Hunk the entire day off if he’d asked, despite the fact that half the event was built around him and his baked goods.

Shiro’s gaze was drawn to the bouquet in Keith’s hands. “Oh, is that a custom order? Did they never pick it up?”

Keith hesitated, heart pounding a bruise in his chest. But only for a second.

“I don’t usually put much stock in the meaning of flowers,” Keith said slowly, not looking at Shiro directly. “They mean different things to different cultures…and different things to different people. So I never really thought it mattered.”

Shiro cocked his head to the side, clearly confused, but didn’t interrupt. Trusting Keith to say what he needed to say.

“But, with these…” Keith hesitated again. God, he was so bad at this. The words were getting tangled in his head before he could say them. He felt his hands shake.

Looking up, he met Shiro’s confused expression.

“I put this together…for you.”

Shiro’s eyes widened, the confusion changing to surprise. “Me?”

Nodding, Keith held out the bouquet. It was still wrapped in the paper—he wanted to see Shiro’s expression when he opened it.

Shiro took the bouquet gently, looking awed. “Keith…you didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

Oh, but he did. After everything, after all this time…and now Shiro was going back to the city. Keith needed to do this before he left.

Shiro delicately pinched the top of the bouquet, lifting up the paper that wrapped around the flowers.

Making a soft noise of awe, Shiro ran his hand over some of the brightly coloured petals.

When Keith had been putting the flowers together, he was still undecided about the whole idea. But now, with Shiro illuminated in shades of yellow and gold with the light of the fading sun, it felt like a star was burning in his chest.

Clearing his throat softly, Keith stepped closer. “I know it’s not the most traditional combination.”

Shiro blinked, as if coming back to himself. “They’re gorgeous, Keith,” he said, voice still soft. “What do they mean?”

Feeling a hint of heat on his cheeks, Keith took another step toward Shiro.

“Gladiolus,” he said, pointing to the flowers which crowded together on the same stem. They were a vibrant purple on the edges of the petals, the colour fading the closer it got to its white center. “They’re for strength and honor.”

The flowers next to them were equally vibrant, their bright red petals looking almost like a combination of a rose and a lily. Its stem was long and green, practically falling out of the flower.

“Amaryllis,” Keith continued. He picked this one immediately after the confrontation with Sendak. “For determination and success of something hard-won.”

 _And love_ , he remembered. But Shiro didn’t need to know that.

Sprinkled through the bouquet were a few of Shiro’s favourites: deep red roses, bursting stargazer lilies, bright sunflowers. The bouquet was, objectively, a mess; none of these flowers would ordinarily be put together in one bouquet. Without any greenery or filler, it looked nearly like something a child would create.

But Keith didn’t care. As long as Shiro was happy.

Shiro was silent for so long, just staring at the flowers, that Keith started fidgeting, worried he’d somehow made a colossal mistake. What if Shiro found the whole thing uncomfortable? What if he was trying to figure out how to keep Keith at arm’s length, wanting them to be business partners and nothing more?

Just as Keith was about to say something—something stupid like _I made this because I love you_ —Shiro whirled, placing the flowers gently on the counter before ducking out back.

Keith blinked, unsure what to do. Luckily, Shiro returned quickly, a bag of coffee in hand.

“What—” Keith started to ask, before Shiro stopped in front of him.

“I made you something, too.” Shiro held out the bag with a sheepish smile.

Keith took it, examining the label. It looked nearly the same as the bags of coffee beans the shop sold, in brown paper bags with the name of the blend written on a label with the Black Lion logo. This one, though, had a name hand written on it, rather than printed out from a computer.

“’Red Lion Blend?’” Keith read out loud, confused.

There was a definite blush across Shiro’s cheeks as the sheepish smile grew. “Yeah. Because of, uh, the red jacket you always wear.”

Keith whipped his head up as understanding dawned on him. “You mean—you named coffee after me?”

Shiro laughed, the sound a little nervous. “Yeah? I made this blend based on what I know you like. So, let me know what you think of it.”

The gears in Keith’s mind were turning faster than he ever thought possible. This whole time, he was psyching himself up for this moment, imagining everything that Shiro could possibly say in response to the bouquet Keith made him. But this was definitely not one of the scenarios he had anticipated.

Shiro had created a new coffee blend, for _Keith_.

When Keith failed to respond, the blush on Shiro’s cheeks deepend. “It might not be any good. I kept tweaking the recipe but it didn’t ever seem right, until last night. But I haven’t had much of a chance to test it. Oh, and maybe you don’t have a coffee grinder? I should have asked first, I’m sor—”

And before Shiro could ramble off into something stupid—like _apologize_ —Keith grabbed the straps of Shiro’s purple apron and yanked him down into a bruising kiss.

The movement was instinctual—Keith’s brain had very little say over it. For one, heart stopping second, Shiro was completely still, shocked at the sudden movement.

But then, he wound his arms around Keith, and he was kissing him back.

Fireworks went off behind Keith’s eyelids. Releasing his death grip on Shiro’s apron, Keith tangled his hands in Shiro’s hair the way he had dreamed of since the first day they met. The undercut was rough, and Keith couldn’t stop running a hand over it, reveling in the texture.

After a moment—or maybe it was a year—the broke apart, smiling at each other with mirroring expressions of dumb happiness. Shiro’s hands were still holding Keith’s back, while Keith’s were wrapped around the back of Shiro’s neck.

Instead of something sappy, or stupid, Shiro simply blurted out, “I’m not leaving.”

Blinking quickly, Keith could only stare. “You’re not?”

Shiro shook his head. “I talked to Allura last night. I’m staying here indefinitely to look after the Black Lion.”

Keith could only laugh, a weight lifted from his chest. “And she’s ok with that?”

Shiro chuckled, the blush returning. It was a good colour on him. “I think she caught on from the beginning. I’ve made so many excuses to stay…I think she’s just finally relieved I stopped asking for a week at a time.”

“So…” The realization hit Keith like a freight train. “You’ve been staying here all this time…for me?”

Shiro laughed, poking Keith’s nose with his metal hand. “Who else would it be? The second I mentioned you, I think Allura figured me out. I’ve never been very good at hiding things from her.”

Surging up, Keith captured Shiro’s lips for another kiss. This one was softer, and Keith savored every second of it. He could feel Shiro smile into it.

Breaking away, Keith could only smirk. “I think Hunk and Matt have known, too.”

Shiro groaned, closing his eyes. “Oh god. I’ll never hear the end of it from Matt.”

Keith bit his lip. “Having regrets yet?”

Blinking his eyes open, Shiro looked down at Keith, bringing their faces together yet again. “With you? Never.”

After another moment, Keith pulled away. “Maybe we should head out. Wouldn’t want any curious customers showing up.”

“Mm, that’s true.” Shiro slipped off his apron, stashing it behind the counter. “Got any Christmas Eve plans?”

“None,” Keith responded. Picking up the bag of coffee from where he'd dropped it—feeling a little guilty that he only noticed now that it was on the floor— Keith gave it a shake. “Maybe we can try this out tonight.”

Coming back around with both their coats, Shiro smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

It only took a few moments to close the shop. By the time Shiro was locking the door, flowers tucked gently in his arm, the light had almost completely faded. Only the last remnants of an orange and pink sunset remained.

There was just enough light to highlight a car parked across the street.

It was sleek, but intimidating; something Keith would imagine the FBI would drive around in. And leaning against it was a very familiar form.

Keith stiffened, the movement enough to catch Shiro’s attention. “What’s—”

But then he turned, and saw where Keith was looking.

“Sendak,” Shiro said softly, gripping the flowers protectively.

Sendak had his arms crossed tightly across his broad chest, metal arm gleaming in the dying light. His expensive jacket was buttoned all the way to the neck, his face expressionless. Just staring.

“He’s so fucking creepy,” Keith muttered.

Shiro pocketed his keys before reaching out and grasping Keith’s hand, drawing Keith’s attention away from Sendak’s intimidating form.

“Let him stare,” Shiro said. Keith looked up from where he was staring at their joined hands. Determination was written across Shiro’s face. Without another glance, he turned away.

Keith let himself be pulled by Shiro’s hand, feeling the warmth of their palms pressed together. Shifting his hand slightly, he interlaced their fingers, and Shiro squeezed his hand in response.

With Shiro’s hand in his, Keith didn’t feel the weight of Sendak’s stare. He barely felt the cold December air nip at his nose, or the brutal winter wind rustle his jacket.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was that they were together.

They would have to watch for Sendak in the future. He clearly wasn’t going away. But neither was Keith.

And together, he and Shiro could do anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and constructive criticism are, as always, appreciated and encouraged :)
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://shirocomplex.tumblr.com/)!


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